Only you
by Pink Tinted Monocle
Summary: After the final battle at the end of 'Not Fade Away'. Angel is the only survivor of the fang gang, but when Wesley is reincarnated, both friends relise how they really feel. SLASH, angelwes. Chapter one lengthed and improved, so read!
1. Chapter one

Disclaimer: I don't own Angel or Buffy or any of the characters that the great Joss has created, they belong, or course, to Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt and Mutant Enemy.

But that doesn't mean I've stopped trying.

Angel brought down the bloody sword he still wielded in his hands upon the neck of the scaly demon standing before him, yellow, rotting teeth bared, filthy pointed claws glinting red in the light of the full moon, courtesy of the night's full moon. The demon was dead before he even had a chance to register the image of the powerful looking vampire blocking his path.

A dull thunk echoed eerily around the back alley behind the Hyperion, and as Angel glazed around at the hundreds, maybe even thousands of dead bodies that littered the alley way behind and in front of him as far as the eye could see, it was then for the first time that Angel truly realised what had just happened. What he had done.

They were dead.

The demons, vampires, dragons, even the small smattering of Gods Angel could have sworn he'd seen enter somewhere into the fray, throats ripped from their bodies, stomach torn open so that their multicoloured insides splattered the ground and outside walls of building like some twisted paint ball fight had just taken place. Every single one of them was dead, and he had won. He had _won_, won the fight that he had been struggling against for the last fives years, defeated the senior partners.

Well, as least for now, who knew when they were going to strike again, come at his when he was least expecting it, raining down on him like some deranged swarm of angry bees?

But that wasn't what was bothering Angel, wasn't what was making him feel like he should give up right there and them, surrender himself to the forces of darkness, revert back to being Angelus like he knew he so easily could. The fact that the senior partners could send some sort of super God like demon to destroy him right there and then didn't even register in his brain.

No.

He was thinking about his friends. or, more accurately, what was left of them.

Or, more accurately, what was left of them.

Gunn had been lost early in the fight, he knew that, had watched the brief moment when his face finally went blank. His ten minutes had passed quickly, his mangled body dropping silently to the ground amidst the hordes of still raging demons.

Illyria had been next; Angel had caught a glimpse of her blue hair buried deep in the debris while he was fending off the monstrous dragon demon, probably was pierced on the end of one of the large, thin metal daggers sported by a group of towering, vicious looking Karlran demons he could just make out from the corner of his eye. He was surprised; he had been expecting the former Hell God to outlive all of them.

Then there was Spike. Angel had seen him go; it was the dragon this time, God awful creature, well, at least in Angel's opinion. The peroxide vamp had been incinerated by the first roar of fire that issued from the terrible beasts mouth. Angel watched as the last few specks of Spike dust where spent away into the screaming battle, the other great vampire champion lost forever among a sea of chaos. He'd had to bite his lip to stop himself from crying.

So that left him, Angel.

Alone.

No shanshu, no friends, no enemies, no nothing. Just standing here, in a dank, dirty alley way, the pounding rain soaking through what remained of his torn and blooded clothing, with only himself for comfort.

Or, at least, that's what he thought.

Ahhh, poor Angel cakes, all alone in the dark little alleyway. Don't worry, Wesley will be along soon to cheer him up. The next chap is basically just gonna be about how Wesley is reincarnated and how he discovering Angel, but in chapter 3 there will be lots of lovely slash grins evilly.

So hurry up and review to tell me what you think, any comments are apprecticed, as long as you don't want to tell me you hate me.

xBack to Frontx.


	2. Chapter two

Wesley was dead. All those years fighting, striving to find his place in life, trying to find a place unlike the Watchers Council or Sunnnydale where he wasn't mocked and laughed at, where the people could tolerate him for more than five minutes at a time, a place where he had _friends, _real breathing (or not, as the case turned out to be) companions who he could talk and laugh with and who appreciated him for who he was.

And where had that got him? Had his last five years in L.A really been worth it, what had he really learnt? That he was a coward that betrayed his friends and slept with the enemy? Or that he was a hero, a man who fought for what was good and right and did all he could to protect those dearest to him?

Though, considering his situation at this point in time, did it really matter? Did it really matter whether he had been warm, loving and brave or a cold, heartless weakling? Because, either way, he was still lying here, on the dirty, cold stone floor, blood still seeping steadily from the large gash in his stomach, his body already cold from lack of beating heart, left to rot slowly from existence, forgotten about in the mists of time. Angel wouldn't come, or Gunn or Illyria and defiantly not Spike, they were all to busy, fighting the good fight, winning the battle, to collect the body of a lonely, fallen soldier.

After, all Wesley, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, was dead now.

At least, that's what he thought.

I know, I know, it's short, I was going to do this bit and the next bit where Wesley realises that in fact, he is not as dead as he thinks, in the same chapter, but I'm a bit short on time at the mo and thought it would be quite good to have this as a kinda teaser for the next chap.

Ok, next chap (which will be up shortly) Wesley is resurrected, chap after that, our two favourite boys find each other again and lots of lovely slash ensures.

Please review my humble excuse for a chapter, would be greatly appreciated


	3. Chapter three

Ok, I decided to add an extra bit about Angel in this chapter as well as the resurrection of Wesley to as a bit of an explanation to the state that Wes soon discovers his vampire hero in, so here we go.

And yes, there will be lots of lovely slash in the next chapter, promise, so just try to be patient.

Angel stumbled weakly down the seemingly never ending expanse of the alley way that stretched out before him like the entrance to some deadly cave where he would be sure to meet his doom. The full extent of his injures had started to set in after the adrenaline rush of the battle, and as his wavered steps became increasing feeble he was dimly aware that his legs seemed to be broken in several places.

After what seemed like around 10 minutes but what, in reality, was really only 30 seconds, Angel soon realised that this obvious disadvantage to a quick getaway was hindered further by another, until now, unnoticed injury. The copious amount of blood which seemed to be trickling its way slowing down the vampires body from an unidentified gash located somewhere near his head, was the presumable the cause of his slowly blurring vision, also serving as a dull reminder that soon his once powerful and basically indestructible stature would no longer be able to support his dilapidated limbs.

He gritted his teeth in frustration, determined to make it to the end of the never ending passage way, tensing his muscles in case of any undiscovered foe lurking in the shadows though quickly relaxing them again when a sudden burning sensation shot through his body.

A gasp of pain suddenly escaped his tightly sealed mouth and was suddenly aware that his legs seemed to have given way and his was now lying in the middle of formidable alleyway, the rain beating down hard on his writhing, blood soaked form.

He hung his head in defeat, his battered limbs allowing him enough strength to stumble to stone wall of the alley on his right against which he now collapsed, aching muscles giving in to the call of sleep as his heavy eyelids closed by their own will, and there was nothing that Angel could do to stop the sleep engulfing him.

He might as well sleep; it wasn't like he had anything else left in his life. Doyle, Cordelia, Fred, Wesley, Gunn, Spike: they were all dead now, forever gone out of his already miserable existence, and Buffy would never trust him again, never want to see him, not once he had started to work for Wolfram and Hart.

So, as Angel lay, bloody and soaked from the rain that was pounding down on him he realised the truth, the God awful truth:

He had no - one.

Wesley was alive.

At least, that was what he had just decided, after all, he certainly felt alive. He heart seemed to be beating, he hoped that was what was thumping in his chest, and he was breathing; short, shallow breaths, which made him feel even dizzier than he already did.

So he was alive. _Alive._ It sounded good, but Wesley was having trouble figuring out what was good about it, to him being alive just meant more suffering and pain. Pain. He remembered pain, the ripping of his muscles and the lusty cry that escaped his lips, yes, pain was certainly one of the few things that he could remember in this odd, half conscious state.

Where was he again? He wasn't quite sure, but from the cold hard texture of the floor that he could feel beneath him he didn't think it was where he was supposed to be.

Could he move? That was the next question. Wesley attempted to tense his muscles and was surprised when it worked. Slowly, he brought his right arm around to feel the floor on that side, his fingers eventually landing on some sort of thick, sticky substance which, as he moved his hand further around his body, seemed to surround him. But what was it, he couldn't tell, he didn't think he could tell anything. Who was he, what was he going here? Why was - ?

But it was then that the coppery tang reached his nostrils, and he remembered what the sticky substance was.

Blood

His blood

He was lying in a pool of his own blood

His memories hit him like a ton of bricks

He was dead

Wasn't he? Wasn't he supposed to be dead? Wasn't death what this was about? Kill Vail, defeat him, avenge Fred's death, die doing it, and maybe, just maybe, see her in heaven.

But here he was, living and breathing, he couldn't have possibly lived through that, the only way he could would have been -

Magic

He was surrounded by magic. It engulfed him, he could feel it now, pulsing through his veins like the blood which now lay clotting around him, letting him know the reason for his existence.

And as these thoughts swam around Wesley head, his thoughts started to come together, make more sense than the snippets of sentences that had been there before. He had heard about this type of thing happening before; some magicians surrounded themselves by magic so that even if they died in the most horrific circumstances they would come back to life.

Vail was still alive when Wesley died, wasn't he? Only knocked unconscious by the fire ball that Wesley had shot at him, a magician as powerful as him couldn't be killed with magic like that, Wesley knew. But wouldn't Illyria have killed him afterwards? Avenged Wesley's death? After all, Wesley knew the tears she cried where hers, not Fred's.

Which meant that...

Wesley's eyes snapped open

Cyrus Vail was standing in front of him, weiding the crowbar that he had stabbed through Wesley's stomach.

'I was wondering when you would wake up, Mr Wyndam -Pryce', Vail grinned manically at Wesley with his rotted, yellowing teeth 'I wanted to say goodbye'.

He swung the metal pole at Wesley's head.

Do do do! Oh no! What will happen to little old Wes! Soz this chapter took so long to post, so much hwork lol.

Promise plenty of slash in next chap, please R and R!

xBack to Frontx


	4. Chapter four

Wesley ducked.

He rolled over as he felt the rush of air against his left cheek as the metal pole cut sharply through the air, missing his head by an inch. As he used his hands and feet to quickly push himself into an upright fighting stance his realised with slight surprise that his wounds were healed, even the deep gash that Vail had had made in his belly. But then again, some magic is known for giving it recipient incredible healing powers.

And some is known for giving its recipient incredible strength.

Vail let out a frustrated roar and whirled around, facing the now standing Wesley, delivering yet another punishing blow to thin air and the ex - Watcher once again avoided as he spun out of the way.

'As much as I would like to remain here dancing with you, Vail' Wesley smirked, sidestepping another attempt from the magician to once again end his life 'but I'm afraid I have other matters to tend to'.

'Oh don't worry, Mr Wyndam - Pryce' Vail snarled as his dived once again at the Englishman 'this little duet we seemed to have engaged in will end very soon, very soon indeed.

'I am fully aware of that, Vail, but there is one small problem that I am bothered about when this duet of ours does finish' smiled Wesley, reaching into the inside of his brown suede jacket.

'And what's that then, Mr Wyndam - Pryce? Your final dying words will be when you are once again lying on the cold stone floor of my mansion, bleeding to death from the reopened hole in your stomach?' growled Vail, angling the crowbar as to finish off the amateur occult student for what he hoped would be the last time.

'No', replied Wes, pulling out the pistol disguised in the lining of his jacket, 'what I'm going to do with your body'.

And with that, he emptied the clip into his murderer; starting in the northern regions of his withered form, making his way swiftly up, ending it with a final shot in his head, watching as it exploded in a shower of blood and brains, dropping like lead to lay with the rest of his broken body on the cold stone floor of his mansion.

He walked over to Vail's body, amazed at the new found power that he could feel running though his veins, and knelt now by the side of the fallen magician and whispered a brief incantation that he remembered from his days as a watcher.

He stood, looking down at the now completely dead body of Cyrus Vail.

He smirked. 'On second thoughts, I'll just leave it here, if that's quite alright with you'.

And with that, Wesley turned on his heel and left the room, wondering why the hell he hadn't just done that in the first place.

As he walked outside, flinging open the heavy wooden doors, Wesley was hit was the unusually heavily pelting rain, soaking him in seconds. The English man frowned slightly as he realised that the rain wasn't the normal, clear colour of rain that he had known throughout his life but instead a deep pink colour, almost as if it was tinged with...

Suddenly realising what the source of the dye was Wesley gasped as he remembered where he was supposed to be:

_The alley just north of the Hyperion. Everyone who makes it meets there._

Wesley ran.

It was hard to see through the rain, all he could make out where the blurred and outlines of various building and other shapes which he didn't really want to consider at this point in time. Even though the steady downpour was rendering the ex -Wwatcher almost blind he still seemed to know how to get to the alleyway, like some unearthly force was calling him there.

He soon reached his destination, practically skidding around the corner.

But as soon as his eyes clamped sight on the macabre landscape in front of him, he wished he hadn't bothered responding to the call.

Bodies littered the ground in front of him, their features, in most cases demon were contorted in pain and soaked with blood and he had to close his eyes to stop himself seeing the streak of bright blue to the right of his field of vision.

God, everything was dead, dead and barren, nothing was alive, nothing. Expect for...

It was only then he noticed the figure in the corner, hidden by the blood and guts that littered the back of his black leather duster, visibly shaking uncontrollably.

Even though he could only see his back, Wesley knew who it was.

'Angel' he breathed, hardly above a whisper, but still the hunkering figure seemed to hear him, turning its body around...

Angel gaunt, cold face greeted him, hollow eyes staring up at him.

'Wesley...?'

I know, I know I promised slash, but I wanted to get this bit out of the way so that the next chapter can concentrate solely on our two favourite boys gettin' it on.

Reviews please, I didn't get any last chapter which made me very sad,

Love you all, xBack to Frontx


	5. Chapter five

Ta Da, here it is, the 5th and final chapter, at long last. Sorry it took me while to get it up but what with school and work and what have you there are some things that have to wait.

Anywho, enough of my rambling and on with the story!

'Oh God, Angel', breathed Wesley, taking the few last steps towards his friend and dropping to his knees on the blood soaked floor of the alleyway, a slight smile breaking out on hid face in spite of himself. 'Oh God'.

Wesley looked into the vampire's eyes and saw that they were streaked with confusion. 'No, this isn't..., you're not..., you can't be..., I..., Illyria' panted Angel, despite the fact that it was theoretically impossible, unable to form word, the pain his battle wounds now taking over his mind, pain so great that trying to believe that what he was seeing in front of him was true was the only thing he could do to stop himself from passing out.

'Angel?' Wesley repeated, but this time his voice was tinged with worry, it was obvious now to him that something was seriously wrong with the soulful vampire. 'Try and stand up'.

He reached out to touch Angel's hand, wishing so much that he could just heal the vampire, make it all go away, but even as his fingers glided the very skin of his arm Wesley felt what seemed like a bolt of lightening passing through his own arm and quickly spreading throughout his own body, as if someone was pouring some sort of hot, fluid liquid down every joint and muscle in his skeleton.

'Wesley?' Angel questioned, amazed by the power that that seeping through his body that appeared to be coming from the Englishman, 'What the...?.

But Wesley didn't answer, couldn't was too mesmerised by the energy, _the power, _coursing through his veins, power, power like his had never felt before, power that he had only dreamed of. He stared at his hands, watching in astonishment as a pulsing orange glow started to form there, slowly working its way up his body. He had almost forgotten that Angel was there, until he heard a soft moan issue from the vampire. Frowning slightly, he cast his eyes down to the vampire, and gasped.

Angel was in heaven. At least, that what it felt like. This new found power that what pulsing throughout his body was like nothing his had ever experienced before, the sensation that it was creating inside of him seemed to be lifting him somewhere, somewhere high above the alleyway littered with the scattered remains of his comrades, high above the pain and despair that he was feeling only seconds earlier, high above the world, high above -

Wesley broke contact

Wesley?

And it all came pouring back.

'Wesley, God, what - what the Hell was that'.

Wesley glazed down at his hands, the orange glow gone now, body returned to normal as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. And suddenly he knew.

'Vail'

'What?' replied Angel, the utter despair he was feeling only minutes ago now replaced by mild curiosity.

'Vail. He brought me back, unintentionally, I killed him again, it must have given me some sort of power, must have made me strong or something.'

'Well', grinned Angel, looking down at his body, 'certainly cured me.'

'Yeah', Wesley replied, still lost in his own world.

SNAP

Back to reality.

'No. I mean, where are the others, are they....?'

'Oh', answered Angel, suddenly remembering the loss of his loved ones as grief took over his body once more. 'Yeah, their...'

'Dead'

'Yeah. Like we should be.'

'Probably'.

'Um, Wes'

'What?'

'Is this a dream?'

Wesley looked curiously at Angel.

'No', replied the ex - watcher, 'just grief I think'

'Grief always does come out in the strangest of ways'.

'Yes, it does.'

'So we're all alone. Just the two of us?' Angel raised his eyes to Wesley's

Wesley smiled bitterly, looking into Angel's eyes. 'Yes. It seems all we have is each other.' Then it struck him. 'God, Angel, we're the only ones, theirs no one. There is no one else in this whole world, no one else expect for you and me.'

'No', Angel smiled weakly, 'God no. I mean, Doyle, Cordelia, Fred, Gunn, Spike, Lorne, all gone, just gone. There is no one left in this world that I love, no one here that I love and who loves me back. Not even Buffy, you heard what Andrew said, she doesn't trust me. I have no where to go, no where to be, and 'at this point Angel laughed from the irony of it all 'no one to save'.

Wesley slumped down next to the brooding vampire, again resting a hand upon Angel's, but this time not feeling the tingle in his.

'Guess it only works when I want it to.'

'Guess so.'

Angel suddenly became acutely aware of the fact that Wesley's other hand seemed to have located his thigh, and moved his own free arm so that it was resting on Wesley's thigh.

'Wesley'

'Hmmm?'

'You sure this isn't a dream?'

'No'

'Good'

'Why?'

'Because I want to give you something'

Wesley turned his head slightly so that he was looking at Angel and raised an eyebrow, 'and what is that exactly?'

As an answer, Angel leant into Wes, and titling his head to one side, leant in for a long, slow kiss. He moved his body round to get better leverage as the kiss continued, opening his mouth to let Wesley's tongue slide in as the Englishman returned the favour with fully. Angel moved the hand from Wesley's thigh to the left and up a bit, making the ex watcher moan into Angel's mouth, doing the same to Angel and earning an equally enthusiastic reply.

'God, Wesley' Angel breathed in Wesley's mouth, 'what the hell are we doing?'

'Savouring the moment' replied Wesley, and which that he pulled Angel down onto the ground, ignoring the bones snapped beneath him and the rain still pounding down in sheets.

So that was it, there they were. Two champions, two heroes, united in a way that they never thought they would be. And as clothes quickly disappeared and they displayed their feeling once and for all they were lost in the moment.

Because now, all they had was each other, and in a strange way, maybe that's all they ever needed.

Ok, ok, I know it's weird, but I just couldn't help myself. Review and I'll love you forever, xBacktoFrontx


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